The 38th Annual Hunger Games
by hey-finn
Summary: Welcome to the 38th Annual Hunger Games. 24 tributes go in and only one will come out.
1. Prolouge

Lartius Flamsteed stood outside on the balcony, listening to the sounds of the Capitol partying below him. The wind ruffled through his perfectly styled hair but nothing could wipe the smirk off his face right now. After he had been appointed Head Gamemaker he had worked his backside off making sure his Games were a success.

After all the President didn't take kindly to failure.

But finally everything had come together and he had to admit he was confident. The mutts, the arena and the traps were all ready and in place. He took one last long look into the sea of Capitol people and went back inside, planning an early night for The Reapings tomorrow. He breathed out in a happy sigh.

All was well.

* * *

The day before the Reapings began was a sunny one. Everyone in the Capitol were in good spirits and excited for the Games to begin. The Escort boarded the train cursing at herself for being late. She flopped down on the nearest armchair as the train pulled away and ordered an Avox to get her some water.

Sighing she flipped open her schedule and cursed again as she discovered that her lateness will force her to miss out on her daily massage! The Avox came back and the Escort, named Ophelia Opalwood, snatched it from her. As she sipped her mind drifted to the Reapings that will take place tomorrow. All those children, innocent children at that, chosen at random to take place in a fight to the death. That's the worst part about being an Escort. Actually getting to know the tributes and then having to watch them getting killed viciously by some random Career -

She snapped back to reality as her nose picked up the mouth-watering smell of her dinner.

* * *

President Arlo Hart sat in his study, in an old cushioned chair behind a great oak desk. The study was his favourite place in the mansion. He tapped his pen in a rhythmic pattern against the wood thoughtfully. He knew. He knew this would be his last games. People had assured him that his illness wasn't that serious but, he knew. After this games was over he would simply toddle off and have his pre-planned death. Quick, simple and painless. Nightlock.

His personal assistant, Hogie, poked his head round the door. "That's just me off now, Sir! I'll be back tomorrow just before the Reapings start." The President nodded and smiled slightly at him, his mouth crinkling at the corners, as he watched him scamper off. He liked Hogie. His favourite assistant, now he comes to think about it.

President Hart just hoped that his successor, Coriolanus Snow, would like him too.

* * *

The Mother padded softly across the carpeted floor, kissing each of her children goodnight. She gave them one last look, snapped the light off and quietly shut the door. She leant her head against the wall and closed her eyes, swallowing deeply.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow one, or potentially two, of her children could be whisked away to endure a fight to the death. Where they would be kept in a lap of luxury until they would most likely be killed. She had seen her friends' son or daughter been taken away and killed. She saw what it had done to them. They were empty, hollow. And who's fault was this? Not the other tributes. No. The Capitol. They were to blame.

And she hated them with every bone in her body for it.

* * *

Tribute List.

District 1

M - Cornell Lear, 17 (Cashmere67)

F – April Wills, 17 (MiniRoseHathawayXOXO)

District 2

M - Zephyr Augustine, 18 (Michelle the Editor)

F - Beverly Crowne, 16 (FabrevanSwifty13)

District 3

M - Farey Knife, 12 (ChocolateTear)

F – Piper Whytt, 17 (livin'onaprayer)

District 4

M - Roger Pontus, 16 (Seamoon)

F – Marina Odelle, 16 (LightningOnFire15)

District 5

M - Milo Anthony Hughes, 12 (SeekerDraconis)

F - Leah Grimes, 15 (SecretChamp)

District 6

M - Alexander Aqulion, 18 (MyLittlePegicorn)

F - Carmen Morning, 14 (quiet-little-wallflower)

District 7

M - Decker Vallen, 18 (Munamana)

F – Jax Jaion, 14 (SasuIchi4ever)

District 8

M - Kiefer Greyslude, 14 (tealywrites)

F - Willow Flock, 16 (ChocolateTear)

District 9

M - Evan Dell, 16 (quiet-little-wallflower)

F - Sofia Flower, 12 (me, don't worry she'll be a bloodbath!)

District 10

M - Jonathon Feldman, 16 (LovePeaceHugs)**  
**

F - Becca Collins, 15 (MegynFan13)

District 11

M - Baron Raff, 16 (Cashmere67)

F - Jennifer Hesmill, 15 (QueenJen)

District 12

M - Seth Maxwell, 13 (FabrevanSwifty13)

F - Cassius Lucetta, 17 (CatieV)


	2. District 1 Reapings

_**District 1 Reapings**_

**Cornell Lear, 17**

_I'm breathing heavily, sweat pouring down my face as I look at the dying tribute at my feet. The blood is gushing out of the open wounds in her chest and stomach. I stand over her, watching the life drain from her eyes. A canon booms._

"_Ladies and Gentleman, may I present the 38th Annual Hunger Games victor, Cornell Lear from District 1"_

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I groan as the unwelcoming sound reaches my ears. If I concentrate hard enough I can still hear the cries and cheers of my fans. But the beeping noise is persistent and I reach out to slap it off, cursing when it when it falls to the floor with a bang. At least the alarm has stopped.

From my position in the bed I can just make out the time. I squint at the numbers. 5:00am. _Shit_, I think, remembering how I had told Clint I would meet him at the Training Centre in 15 minutes. I rub my eyes hard with the backs of my hands, forcing away my fatigue. I sit up, ignoring my body's pleas for sleep.

I stroll towards my en suite bathroom, rubbing a sore spot on the back of my neck. I undress quickly and step into the shower. I feel myself relax as a steady stream of hot water cascades down on me. My mind drifts off thinking about the Reapings. I smirk, practicing my look for when I reach the stage. The others didn't stand a chance of getting on that stage. _My_ stage, my place of honour. Even if I wasn't planning to volunteer this year I wouldn't have had a choice. See when my mother was crowned victor in her games she was just seventeen. Now it's my turn.

I step out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it round my waist. I duck through the doorway into my bedroom, feeling the cool air make a home on my warm skin. My eyes land on my training outfit neatly folded on my bed. Huh, my mother must have left for the Training Centre already. I quickly change into it, the familiar feel of the material giving me a sense of comfort to calm the pit of nerves that were simmering in my stomach. I shake the feeling away as quickly as it came. A _Career_ has no time for nerves. What do I need to feel nervous about anyway? I _will_ be the tribute for District 1 and I sure as hell will win the Games.

After a final check in the mirror and fluffing my still-damp blond hair a little, I lightly jog out int the cool early morning air. The Training Centre isn't too far away from the Victors Village, about half a mile, so I keep up my steady jog to warm up before last-minute training. The streets are virtually empty, all the potential Career tributes must be already training. I curse inwardly, regretting how low long I had took to get ready. I speed up my pace.

I reach the entrance and slow down to a confident stride. A group of young boys, about 13 I would say, stand huddled right in front of the doorway. I roughly push my self past them, ignoring their sharp words of annoyance. Arseholes. Can't they see I'm late? Do they really think their pathetic beings have anything against me? In my own frustration I don't notice who's infront of me until I walk right into them. Startled, I stop. Long flowing blonde locks. Gray eyes that mirror mine. Not an inch of her age shown on her face. My mother.

She laughs at my expression. "Better not let that happen in the arena!" I grin along with her and she slaps an arm round my shoulders. "You all set for volunteering?"

"Of course," I reply, my trademark smirk on my face. "I'm more than ready."

Her smile grows wider. "That's the spirit! Now your friend, Clint is it? Well he's been waiting for you for half an hour and I think he's getting impatient!"

"Oh, yes I'll head straight over there then." I say with a smile, glancing over at Clint at the swords station where he's currently slashing a dummy to pieces.

"Good boy!" My mother smiles once more and pats my back. "I'll see you later in the Justice Building!" With that she walks off with wiggle of her fingers.

I jog over to where Clint is, stopping just before I reach him. His face is full of concentration and he's so absorbed in what he's doing he doesn't even notice me. Clint is skilled with a sword. Highly skilled. I'm good with a blade but my weapon is definitely a spear or a bow and arrow.

After a couple of minutes Clint looks up and sees my standing there. He wipes the perspiration off his face and a look of annoyance sets on his chiselled features. "Mate, do you not own a clock? You're late. You've lost valuable training time!"

I roll my eyes at him. I swear Clint is an old man stuck in the body of a 16 year old. "Fine yes, I'm sorry okay? Geez man. C'mon I wanna head over to the spears." I say, itching to get my hands on my favourite weapon.

Clint shakes his head at me. "No, you need to work on your swordwork. Your defence is slacking." I roll my eyes again as he reaches over an grabs an identical sword to his. He tosses it to me and I catch it easily. I take up the first position, legs spread slightly, with the sword braced in front of me. I make eye contact with Clint and he looks at me straight back.

"GO!" He shouts. I need no further instructions. We both charge at each other and I wince when I hear the cling of metal ring out. I take a step back, he does the same, and we circle each other, trying to guess who will make the move first. It's Clint. He dodges to the left and brings the sword round towards my stomach. Reacting, I charge my sword down to block it, and make a retaliating strike up against his shoulder. He swiftly avoids this and takes up an attack on my opposite side. I duck under his outstretched arm but he simply turns around and kicks his leg under my feet. I fall down onto the mat on my back. Hard.

"See." He says panting. "I told you." I say nothing, just staring up at him, catching my breath back. Clint pushes his hair away and says. "C'mon, up. We'll do it again." And so we do, practicing over and over again until Clint is satisfied. Then we move onto axes and then later, bow and arrows.

Finally the Head Trainer tells us it's time to go and get ready for the Reaping. "Aw I didn't get to practice with the spears!" I say pouting. Clint grins at me. "Hey, mate. Everyone knows you don't need practice with them." I smirk at him in reply because well, it's true. Clint tells me he'll meet me at the Reaping later and I nod and wave to him.

I decide not to bother getting changed again. When I'm up on that stage I want to look like I mean business right? No fancy suit or anything. Besides, fancy clothes would just slow me down. I whistle as I walk down to the town square where the Reaping takes place. The streets are busy with eager children and adults alike. I get in line for my finger to be pricked, just soaking up the atmosphere. Someone pushes me from behind and I spin round, ready to shout in whoever it is' face, but I relax when I see who it is. Vivian, my childhood best friend. She lives next door to me in the Victors Village, since her mother is a victor too.

She smiles up at me. "Clint told me you are going to volunteer." She says quietly.

"Yeah I am," I reply, smiling broadly. But I frown when I see her sad expression. Isn't she happy? Oh right she's _worried_ about me. I sigh. "Look, I _want_ to volunteer. You know more than anyone I wouldn't have a choice anyway. I'll be fine alright? It's _me_. I'll win." She simply gives me smile, but the sad expression doesn't leave her eyes. The peacekeeper shouts '"Next!". I give Vivian a quick hug as I say, "I'll see you later okay?" I quickly get my finger pricked, not noticing the pain, and jog off to my age-group.

The mayor comes out and the ceremony begins as it does every year. I tune out and scan my eyes over the crowd ahead of me. It was just the 18 year olds in front of me. I could get past them easily. I had got myself a good position, right in front and off to the side. My eyes wander over to the stage. The escort and two mentors are sitting in their seats, looking half bored to death. For some reason, I'm not sure why, I'm glad my mother wasn't chose to mentor this year.

I snap back to reality as the screeching sound of our escort's voice breaks the silence. "Welcome, welcome everybody! I am Agnes Lavender, and I am so excited to be conducting the Reaping of District O-o-o-ne!" She grins wildly as we respond with claps and cheers, me joining in too. "Right so shall we get started then?" Also met with enthusiastic applause, she laughs, her purple teeth flashing. "A-a-a-alrighty then! Ladies first!" She glides over to one of the glass bowls, her lavender-dyed hand dipping into the pile of slips and picking out one from near the bottom. She takes it back to the microphone and unwraps it quickly. "Okay do we have a Dia-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" Comes a scream from the girls side, silencing every other attempt. I crane my neck to see who the shout belongs to. A surprisingly small girl strides out confidently, her cherry-red hair swinging in her high ponytail. She bounds up the steps and stands in her place, ignoring Agnes' outstretched hand.

"And what's your name dear?" Says Agnes, an offended look on her face.

"April Wills." She states, giving everyone a glare. The name rings a bell, but I think I've only seen her in the Training Centre a couple of times. Why on earth did she volunteer?

"And now for the boys." I concentrate fully now, legs braced for a run. Agnes grabs a random slip off the top, but before she can even say the potential tribute name, two boys in front of me shout simultaneously "I VOLUNTEER!" They both take one look at each and start fighting. I watch them, amused, as they throw punches and kicks at each other. Then I realize this is my chance. I duck underneath the rope and lightly jog up on the stage. I grab the microphone off the bemused escort and calmly say, "I volunteer as tribute."

The two oafs stop fighting and look at me with pure hatred. I swear I can see steam coming out of their ears. I simply shrug and smirk at them. Too bad. I grab the microphone again. "Hello District One. For those of you who don't know, my name is Cornell Lear." I pause for dramatic affect. "Oh and I will be the victor of the 38th Hunger Games." A cheer erupts from the crowd, for both of us, and you can barely hear Agnes shouting at us to shake hands. I grasp April's small hand and give it a shake, my smirk on my face again. She looks up at me with a scowl at first, but then her features twist in what I think was an attempt at a smile. But two can play at that game. So I smile right back.

After we get ushered into the Justice Building and into separate rooms, I flop down on the sofa. The room doesn't impress me, I live in the Victors Village after all. It becomes evident that I have to much adrenaline to stay sitting, so I pace around the small room. The door opens and in walk my parents. I give them a huge grin, and my father returns it, his face flushed with pride. But my mother fixes me with a cold, hard stare. I'm taken aback by this. I don't understand, why is she not happy? I did what she wanted after all?

"Have...Have I done something wrong?" I say, tentatively.

"No." My mother replies, folding her arms. "Not yet anyway."

"What do you mean?" I can't help but be confused.

"I mean, you have to _win_ Cornell. If you don't you will have disgraced me, the whole family and the _entire_ District. _Do you understand_?" My mouth has fallen open and for once I am at a loss for words. "If you lose, _everyone_ will hate you. Just try to remember that." With that she flounces off.

I struggle to comprehend what just happened. Never did I think my mother would say something like this. Be happy? Yes. Be proud? Almost certainly. But not this.

My father comes and pats me on the shoulder, a sad smile on his face. "She didn't mean what she said, son. But please try to win. At least if it's just for your family. Here take this. It's your mother's." A diamond pin. Then he goes too.

I get no more visitors. Neither Vivian or Clint came to see me, like I thought they would. I expected a happy celebration. Not sharp words and an empty room.

I got what I wanted. So why do I feel a sense of...disappointment?

* * *

**April Wills, 17**

I sit on top of The Hill, the wind whipping my hair behind me. 'The Hill' is basically that. A hill. Geez I wonder what genius came up with that name, insert eye roll here. But still, this is my favourite place in the world. From up here I have a view over the whole District. Up here is where my true thoughts and feelings can dance free from my tongue because, the wind is so loud no eavesdropper would be able to hear anything unless they were sitting right next to you. Not many people come up here though, since it's such a trek.

As usual my mind drifts off to what occupies my head 99% of the time. The Dark Days. My grandmother fought and died in the rebel war, and I have no hesitation in saying she's my hero. She did everything I want to achieve. Make a change, a stand, to shape the world into something new. But with a better outcome than last time.

But it's hard to know where to start, you know? I don't think a smallish 17 year old girl from District One can start a full-scale rebellion on her own. And any talk of rebellion down in the District results in immediate execution. Which is why I come up here, venting to my best friend, Liam, because I know no one would hear me. And I know Liam would never betray me, I trust him with my life.

Speaking of whom, I see his tall frame come loping towards me. We always meet up here on the morning of the Reaping. It's just a routine now. I think it calms our nerves, but what is there to get worked up about, really? If you get picked then, no worries. This District One. There is always a volunteer.

I hate the games, despise them even. Who in their right mind justified the slaughtering of innocent children? I have done some training though, just a little. It's very rare if you find someone who hasn't. Better to be prepared for the worst.

Liam flops down beside me, panting a little from the strenuous walk up here. We say nothing, both immersed in our own thoughts. Liam's green eyes are misty and I know straight away he's thinking about his younger sister, Lacey, who is eligible for the Games. No one wants to lose two siblings to them. Thankfully, my brother and sister are safe, one too old and the other too young.

I start the conversation off like I normally do. "I wish there was someway I could make change."

Liam chuckles softly and shakes his head, finally looking at me. "If I had a pound for everytime you say that, I would be rich enough to live in the Capitol."

I arch an eyebrow at him. "Oh ha dee ha ha. But seriously, imagine if we had the power to start another," I drop my voice to a whisper. "Rebellion."

Liam full out laughs this time. "Yeah, right. Woops oh look a flying pig too." He backs down a little at my expression. "Look, we're just two kids from a district. Who would listen to us?"

I clamp my lips together in frustration. He's right of course, he always is. Who _would_ listen? I thought hard. What do people listen to? The Games. Every person in Panem does, it's mandatory. If someone in the Games made a spark say, a spark of rebellion, would it bloom into a raging inferno? Who in the games could do something like tha-? It's like a light bulb goes off in my head. A small smile slowly forms on my face. The idea is simple yet, executed correctly, oh so effective.

"I'm going to volunteer for the Hunger Games."

Whatever Liam was expecting me to say it was certainly not that, judging by his face. It is no exaggeration when I say his face drops.

"You're _what_? Sorry, are you _crazy_?" He exclaims.

I take a deep breath. "Look everyone watches the games, right? So all we need is to create a spark, a simple spark and," I snap my fingers. "We would create a fire. It would catch from District to District, spreading and becoming a force so powerful not even the Capitol could stop it." My eyes are shining now, as if the spark of light is inside of me. Which I suppose it is. Until I let it out.

I watch Liam carefully as he processes this. For a second I think he'll agree with what I'm saying. But he's shaking his head again. "Have you forgot about the getting killed part? How you could _die_ trying?"

"Better to die trying than not trying at all." I say firmly.

He fixes me with a sad stare, and when he speaks all the anger goes out of his words. "Please. I don't want to lose someone else I love to the Games."

That pulls me up short. Liam's sister went into the games and got murdered. Knife to the back. I know more than anyone how this affected him. No one else was with him when it happened. No one else held and comforted him while he screamed his heart out, in this very spot in fact. No one else still sees the sadness in his eyes. Just me.

But this still doesn't stop me. "You won't. I'm volunteering and that's the end of it. I'll see you later." I walk away then. I don't want to see his face and know that I caused the expression. And I most definitely don't want him to see the tears that are now forming.

I walk all the way home and with every step the promise I made to myself resounds. I will get into these Games and I will certainly be getting back out again.

I reach my house, a simple average-sized home. As I walk through the door my nose picks up the stale stench of alcohol. I sniff unappreciatively, the smell doing nothing to improve my mood. I glance at my father passed out on the sofa. I grimace at the sight but I'm glad he's not awake. Ever since my mother died after having my sister, my father turned to drink to drown out his grief. It turned him abusive and nasty, nothing like the kind and gentle man I once knew.

I bound up the stairs and turn right into my bedroom. I share it with my younger sister Marie. She's not there so she must be out with Alex, my older brother, picking 'lucky apples" for the occasion. The time on the clock confirms it. I sigh at the superstitous ways of my siblings. There is no such thing as luck.

Taking the advantage of a virtually empty house, I start to get ready for the Reaping. I make my way to the bathroom, and undress then step into the shower. The warm water rains down on me and washes away my worries. Water often has this effect on me. I rub a special shampoo into my hair to de-curl it.

When I'm finished I pad back into my bedroom. I open my small closet and contemplate the clothes hanging inside thoughtfully. What to wear? Normally I don't care too much about clothes, but right now I want to make an impression. I cannot be easily forgotten. After metally discarding my own clothes I tip-toe over to my fathers room. In the big walk-in-wardrobe, right in the far left corner, hang a few of my mothers old outfits, ones my father couldn't bear to get rid of. I flick carefully through until my eyes land on what I'm looking for. A smile lights up on my face and I take it back to my room.

I change into the outfit, relieved to find it fits me. This outfit had been passed down through my family. My grandmother wore it and gave it to my mother. I distinctly remember her wearing it. And now I guess it's been passed down to me. It''s a simple, elegant gold pencil skirt and a white strapless corset with delicate gold swirls on it. It hugs my curves and emphasis my figure. I comb my hair out until it's pin-straight and I twist it up into a high pony tail. I make my face up naturally, just a bit of eye shadow and lip gloss extra. I also put my own mask on. The mask of the feisty girl with a temper that everyone expects me to be. The one who always has a sarcastic or mean comment on her tongue. As I take a look in the mirror it's like I'm suddenly 10 years old again, with my mother standing smiling behind me. "You're so much like your Grandmother, April."

I shake the memory away and bound back down the stairs. The time on the clock meant that it was time to get to the Reaping. I take a deep breathe to steady the nerves that were fizzing in my stomach. I was not backing out now. I throw open the front door and step outside, the sun hitting my face. I shield my eyes and spot my brother and sister sitting on the garden bench. I greet them with a smile and Marie runs up to me, telling me about the apple picking this morning. I take an apple off her gratefully, realizing I hadn't eaten yet.

"Looking good sis! Looks like Dad's not the only one who made an effort!" Alex says, smiling his easy smile at me.

I'm surprised by this. Usually my father sleeps till noon. But then again it's Reaping day. It's either attend or face the consequences. "I guess his hangover mustn't be too bad this morning then!" I smile back.

Alex looks me up and down. "Nice outfit. What's the occasion?" He asks innocently, but I catch the meaningful look in his eye. Do I tell him? Alex would flat out refuse me to volunteer, done and done no questions asked. And I don't think I could repeat my argument again. So I stay silent.

"It's the Reaping remember?" I laugh, not quite meeting his eye. But he simply shrugs it off and we fall into easy conversation as we set off towards the town square. It's not a long walk so we reach it quickly. Before I leave to get signed in Alex grabs me by the arm. Marie has already run off to meet up with her friends.

"This was Mum's right?" He says. I nod slowly. "Bit flashy for a Reaping, don't you think?" I look up and meet his eyes. His gaze is so full of concern and questioning I weaken.

"Well I gotta look good for the Capitol." The words blurt out before I can stop them. Realization dawns on his face and I wrench my arm away from his. I run down the line of people and roughly shove my way to the front, and get my finger pricked. Sucking my finger, I jog again to my age group. I spot my other friends, Faith and Haley, and wave to them, but make no effort to join them. As soon as the Mayor walks on stage I stop listening, focusing on gathering up my energy for the volunteer shout.

The escort, Agnes Lavender or something, struts on stage screeching her head off. I wince and almost cover my ears with my hands. She walks over to the glass bowl containing the girl names. _This is it_, I think.

"Okay do we have a Dia-?"

"I VOLUNTEER!" I scream, my screeching voice on a par with Agnes'. Even I'm taken aback by the sheer volume I produced with that one shout. I was right. My shout silences all over attempts, silencing everyone. I stride out confidently out of my place and up the stairs onto the stage. The crowd stays silent, just watching. I ignore Agnes' outstretched hand and, like a professional, she ploughs straight on.

"What's your name dear?"

I wince at the word. "April Wills." I reply through gritted teeth. I hear a faint "Lovely!" as she walks over to the boys bowl. My eyes scan the crowd and almost immediately lock on Liam's intense stare. A kerfuffle breaks out in the front of the boys crowd, but I barely notice, just staring him out. He does the same too though and I have to look away first. As I break my gaze away I notice a boy, around my age perhaps, calmly walk up on the stage. The two fighting below are oblivious to this and look up with surprise then horror and finally hatred as the boy utters, "I volunteer as tribute."

I'm thinking I might like him until he speaks again. "Hello District One. For those of you who don't know, my name is Cornell Lear. Oh and I will be the victor of the 38th Hunger Games." I roll my eyes as the crowd erupts with cheers. Great just another arrogant, blood-thirsty prick of a Career. He grasps my hand and shakes it, a cocky smirk on his face. I scowl at him until I realize I'll probably be in an alliance with him. Better start off on a good foot, right? So I smile and, he smiles right back.

The journey into the Justice Building is a daze. I hardly notice the fancy room I'm put into. I think I might be in shock of what happened. But it's all for the best right? In the long run?

Surprisingly, my first visitor is my father. We study each other for a minute.

"Well that was stupid." He says finally, a nasty edge to his voice.

"Was it?" I counter, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah." He says. "Funerals are hard to plan." He turns to go but stops, seemingly reconsidering. He spins around and throws something at me. "Here. This can be your token thingy." Then he's gone. I turn it over in my palm. I recognize it immediately of course. It was my mother's ring, her favourite. Engraved on it it says 'Always Protect The Ones You Love'. I slip it on.

My next visitors are my siblings. Marie comes running in, a bundle of sobbing and tears. Alex following her, his eyes red. As I comfort Marie, Alex asks me one question with his eyes. Why?

"You'll understand...Once I get in the arena," I stammer out, struggling to retain my composure myself. He nods at me, hopefully understanding. "You still believe in me right?" I have to ask.

"I always have done." He says as a tear falls from his eye.

After a while they're gone too. I am alone.

I get no more visitors. Liam doesn't come, which hurts me more than I thought it would.

I think back to the person I saved from being reaped. Like I said before. There is always a volunteer.

Just this time it was me.

* * *

**A/N: Okay District 1 Reapings dooooooone! :) Please review and tell me what you think, it would me a lot. I worked hard on this so I would love some feedback. :) I don't know when 'll update next since I'm fairly busy next week. **

**There are still a couple of spaces left! Form on first chapter, form on my profile. Thankyou! :)**


	3. District 2 Reapings

**Just want to say thankyou very much for all the reviews and feedback, it made me really happy that you guys enjoyed the first Chapter! :) Sorry it took me so long to update, I've been really busy. And I'm glad that you guys commented on the similarities between April and Katniss, I wrote it like that because I think it sends a very ironic message. :)**

**Oh and because I forgot last time...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

_**District 2 Reapings**_

**Zephyr Augustine, 18**

I wince as the hammer slams against the dummy with a dull thud. Sand spills from it and I watch as it pours out the split and make a little pile on the floor. I spin around and feel my arm swing, the hammer hitting the dummy again. It creaks slightly, as if it's deciding whether to fall or not. It doesn't. I breathe heavily and lean my hammer against the wall of the basement, as I wipe the sheen of sweat off my forehead.

"Good work soldier." I jump back in surprise, the shock of the voice making me whirl round.

_Lucia_.

She leans up against the side of a post, arms crossed, staring at me smugly. Her body looks as if it's flickering in the firelight, the only light source in the room. I take a deep breath and swiflty walk over to the other side of the room. I grab a towel and rub my face, annoyed that the moisture on my face isn't ceasing. I keep my back turned away from her.

"Zephyr?" She calls mockingly. "Zeph? Why are you ignoring me?"

Oh I can almost hear the pouting in her voice. I try and summon up a reply but my stutter stops me. The words travel up my throat but then they meet a barricade, something stops them from spilling out my mouth. I ball my fists in frustration. _You're not real, you're not real, you're not really there_, I think instead.

"Oh but I am here Zephyr." _Dammit_. "Just turn around. Then you'll see."

It takes everything in my power to not turn around. If I get one glimpse, one glimpse, of those green eyes boring into mine then I'll be lost to the oblivion of my mind. I concentrate on folding my towel neatly.

"You can't keep ignoring me Zephyr. Don't you remember who I am? I'm your girlfriend Zeph. We have a child. You told me you were going to marry me. Right before that moment when the train-"

_Stop it_, I think pleadingly. _Please just stop it_.

And she does. Instead she let's out an ear-splitting scream. The same scream I heard right before it happened, the last thing I heard before-

"STOP IT!" I bellow, whipping round to find myself yelling at thin air. Of course.

I'm panting heavily when the basement door bursts open and my younger sister, Castri comes running in.

"Are you okay?" She asks urgently, her gaze then directed at the small cot in the corner of the room. "Is Miri okay?" I'm vaugely aware of the soft cries coming from the cot. Castri walks over and gently picks Miri up, cooing at her.

"What were you shouting at Zephyr?" Castri asks, a look of worry on her face.

"Th-The training dummy." I reply unconvincingly. Right on cue it falls to the ground with a crash. Castri flinches but she still looks worried so I plaster a fake smile on my face.

She licks her lips. "Were you thinking about...about Lucia?" She asks tentatively. The smile drops from my face. Suddenly I'm not in the musty atmosphere of the basement, I'm outside in the old telephone box, the only one in the district, listening to the rain beating against the small structure and Lucia's voice in my ear.

_It was mid-autumn, about 8 months ago. The rain was pelting down hard, the droplets bouncing on the concrete ground. It was one of the wettest days of the year apparently. I was stood in a phone box, one hand pressed against my ear, listening and laughing at Lucia spinning a tale about her uncle._

_"So tell me again," I said, a grin on my face. "How come you got to visit your Uncle in District 8?"_

_"I've told you," Lucia giggled. "Since he's a victor I got special permission. Anyway, how's Miri?"_

_"She's doing just fine." I replied. "She's with my mother. Three months have go- have gone so quick, huh?" I heard Lucia murmur something in agreement. "I love you." I suddenly said, in a rush of giddiness and excitement. And I meant it._

_"I love you too." She said, and I could tell she meant it too. "Oh that reminds me, I have something for you when I get home."_

_"I have something for you too. A surprise." I bit my lip and smiled, thinking of the ring waiting back at my house. "I think you're going to li- like it. When do you get back?"_

_I was sure she was about to say tomorrow morning but she cut herself off with a gasp. Another gasp, followed a curse._

_"What happened?" I asked, I felt my heart beat quicken. Something was wrong._

_Another pause and I could distinctively hear the gasps and cries from the other train passengers. "Some-someone's been pushed onto the tracks." Her voice sounded faint and I felt my stomach drop. "I think she might be unconscious. The..The driver can't avoid her..."_

_A pause again. Now I was definitely hearing screams._

_"Lucia!" I cried desperately._

_I heard her voice again sounding panic-stricken. "Zeph! Zephyr I-" Then I heard one long scream. Her scream._

_We found out later, from a news report, that the train had veered off the slippery tracks. It had tipped over sideways and skidded into a nearby factory. There were next to no survivors._

When I zone back to reality I find myself looking into Miri's eyes. Green ones. She is a constant reminder of the pain but I love her so much. I'm fascinated by her. She has our coffee-brown skin tone. Lucia's hair and eyes. My smile. Lucia's laugh. It brings me joy and grief to see Lucia in Miri's face every day, but I put myself through it for her. For Miri. For us.

Things would be almost perfect if the Lucia that often appears to me after the accident happened isn't such a poor substitute.

I've just picked up my hammer again, when the door bursts open for the second time in half an hour. I really have to get a lock.

My father waltzes in, a big smile on his face. "Well, this is it son." He beams.

I'm confused. "This is wha..wha-?" I swallow and take a deep breath. "This is what?"

"Why of course, my boy! Have you forgotten? It's the Reaping today!" My face remains blank and his smile falters slightly. "You are planning on volunteering of course? Why, this is your last year?"

I feel my face drain slightly. This is news to me. I train, it's compulsory, but I never planned to volunteer. I thought a wound to my stomach that I got about a year ago, would cease the opportunity. Unfortunately it healed faster than I would've liked.

I lift my chin up to look my father in the eye. "Actually Dad, I'm not." I'm relieved to hear my voice is steady. Firm and strong.

His expression changes rapidly. From confused to disbelief to angry then to full red-flushed rage.

He starts off quietly, his chest heaving. "Have I heard you wrong? I must have heard you wrong." When there's no response from me, his voice rises. "What do you _mean you're not volunteering_? Are you insane? Are you actually going to stand by like a lemon? You haven't even tried to volunteer have you. You never have have you, you lazy, worthless piece of nothing." He pauses for breath. "I have not worked my backside off, brought you up for you to turn down this opportunity. How selfish are you? Do you not _want_ your family to have a better life? Do you not _want_ Miri to have a successful, victor father? You are all she has left since the mother got herself killed!"

I visibly flinch at the mention of Lucia, my head jerking backwards. Something inside me snaps and I feel anger boiling up inside me. It's like I'm a timed bomb, smoking and bubbling just below the surface, ready to explode at any moment. I stare at him, heat blazing in my eyes. He holds my glare for a moment before dropping his gaze. I grab my hammer and push wordlessly past him, past the rest of my family gawping on the stairs and walk out of my house towards the Town Square.

My father's rant keeps circling around my head, making me feel dizzy and sick to the stomach. I put a palm to my forehead and I feel it burning. I lean against a tree for support, my knees almost buckling. Something in my brain puts two and two together that I need to attend the Reaping. I start walking again, my pace slow and sluggish. I think one of my shoes falls off but I barely notice.

Somehow I reach the square. My heart and pulse are racing, my skin burning hot and a bead of sweat trickles down the side of my head. What's the matter with me? My father's words swarm around me, buzzing like flies.

I'm now standing in my age group. I blink, confused, as I don't remember getting here. I lick my dry lips. The sun. It must be the sun that's making me feel weird.

I tune out the Mayor and the ridiculous escort. I ignore the slight delay of the girl tribute. I hardly notice as chaos breaks out in front of me. I only focus on my father's words.

_Lazy._

_Worthless._

_Selfish._

I know what I have to do. I have to prove him wrong. I push through the throng of people. Some resist but soon back away. I'm confused by this until I realize the hammer I'm dragging along besides me is whacking people across the shins. I must have forgot to put it down.

Soon I get pushed out of the crowd, right at the bottom of the stage. I stumble a little but quickly regain my balance. "I..VOLUNTEER." I shout, probably louder than needed. But anyway, it works and I'm standing on the stage, shaking hands with the female tribute. She smiles a sly smile at me. I don't smile back.

I wait in the Justice Building, my foot tapping nervously. I don't have to wait long. My family tumble in, their faces all smiles. I stare at my father. He looks pleased, a smile on his lips, but he doesn't quite meet my eye. He congratulates me on volunteering, his voice stiff. His words are still fresh in my mind. My younger twin sisters gush about how excited they are about seeing me on television. My mother hugs me and tells me she'll look after Miri, wiping a tear from her eye. I stay silent, twisting an old ring that belonged to Lucia round my finger.

Even Gaius Coulson, my old friend and occasional rival and sparring partner, comes to see me. He claps me on the back and wishes me good luck, telling me how jealous he is.

Lastly, Lucia glides in. She says nothing, just sits beside me. After a moment she takes my hand. As a tear slides down my cheek, new words enter the swarm buzzing in my head.

_Lucia._

_Killed._

_My fault._

* * *

**Beverly Crowne, 16**

For once I am the first up.

This is a rare occurrence in my household. Usually I lie in bed for as long as possible, refusing to do my chores and pretending not to hear my sisters shouts of anger. This gets quite difficult when they resort to pounding up the stairs, bellowing practically right in my ear and pulling me out of bed. Actually make that forcibly dragging me until I think my arm will quite possibly pop out of it's socket.

But today is different. Today I got up just as the first cracks of light broke through the last remains of dark. And trust me, it is not a pleasant experience that I want to go through daily.

Please don't make the mistake that I'm lazy. I'm really not. I work hard and I'm as sharp-minded as a swords edge. But really, no one finds mornings fun.

And I train. It's compulsory here in District 2. You have to train, unless you have a written and signed note from your parents with a valid reason why not. And sometimes even those don't make it past the trainers. Every person, boy and girl, from the ages 8-18 are monitored to follow their training progress. If they catch you not training and you don't have a free pass, you get sanctioned and taken away. No one knows where. My father once told me it didn't used to be this strict. He said it started just before I was born. Capitol's orders. So whether you want to or not, you train. Simple as that.

I train every day. Every day except today. The one day when you don't have to do any training without consequences. Some people ignore this though and get in some last-minute training, but what is the point really? I have to say I'm pretty good. Not being arrogant just truthful. Never doubt your own abilities I always say. I don't mess around though. I prefer the method of messing with their mind and then finishing them off with a quick death blow.

I hear one of my sisters moving around upstairs so I quickly tie my wavy blonde hair out of my face and spoon the eggs and bacon out of the pan and onto three plates. I sit down and force some eggs down myself, trying in vain to take my mind off what I'm planning to do later. I'm taking a sip of tea when Selena, the oldest, floats into the room.

She smiles at me, slightly surprised to see me awake I think, and starts rooting around cupboards.

I roll my eyes. "I've already made some." I say with my mouth full. She stops mid-search, her hand poised in the air. She turns around and flops down beside me. She raises an eyebrow at me as she cuts a peice of bacon and puts it in her mouth. It must meet her satisfactions because all she says is "I didn't know you can cook". I resist the urge to roll my eyes again.

We eat in silence until my youngest sister, Jewel, makes an appearance. She plonks herself down, scooping up her food. "So," Selena starts, pushing her empty plate away. "I heard red is the in colour at the Reaping this year." She's trying, and failing, to make light of the situation.

We both ignore her and Jewel asks, "Are you still planning on volunteering?"

"Of course." I say stiffly. "What other choice do we have?"

Jewel mumbles something along the lines of "There's always another way." She looks pleadingly at Selena. But Selena just sighs and wipes her mouth with a napkin. "Look we've talked about this. You are definitely not going because you would be dead in the Bloodbath." Jewel looks hurt at this, but it's true. "And," Selena carries on. "I flat out refuse to spend any time with those Capitol animals."

_Not even to help your own family_, I think, but I quickly shake that thought away. It's better this way. I am the most skilled. I am the most least likely to get killed. I am the person who will be missed the least if-

No, I won't think like that.

"We should tell Dad..that..of what you're going to do I mean." Jewel stumbles over her words, looking down at her lap.

"No. I am _not_ having another conversation over the phone with him again." Selena says firmly. I think we are all relived by this. We all remember, quite clearly, what happened last time. The harsh words of a new baby and broken promises. The colourful language Selena used back at him. And what were we left with? The money running out and only one possible solution. That is why I must volunteer.

Because no way in hell am I letting my sisters go to the orphanage.

I stand up, scraping my chair back across the stone tiles. I announce that I'm going to get changed and make my way upstairs, my hands balled into fists. I'm not sure why a sudden surge of anger has came over me, or who it's aimed at. My father? The Capitol? Our situation? Make no mistake I am capable of killing and I will do so without batting an eyelid. But I'm not bloodthirsty. I will do it because that's what will make me come home.

And people always underestimate a pretty, little girl who desperately needs to get home to her family.

I pick my outfit carefully, sorting through the many dresses, my hands caressing the soft feels of silk, velvet and satin. _Think innocence_. Everyone knows the games start before we get to the arena, the Capitol even. My hands find a short pink dress, made of the softest cotton. I take it out and examine it. _Perfect. _I put it on, smoothing the soft fabric with my hands. I walk to my full-length mirror and peer at my reflection. I fluff out my hair so it forms a cloud of blonde waves around my hair, with streaks of pink lightning running through it. The dress does its job, softening the hard edges of my body. My ice-blue eyes are too sharp though. I circle them in white eyeliner, the effect making them look larger, more innocent. I also add a delicate pink blush to my cheeks. It's quite astonishing actually, how different I look. I look younger, as if the weight of the world has scarcely made a mark on me.

_So_ not me.

I walk back downstairs, after adding a big white bow around my waist, to find that my sisters have already left. Charming. And oh they even left the washing up undone, how kind. I sit down on the sofa, my hands shaking slightly. It feels like my mind is two people arguing with each other.

I have to volunteer.

_No you don't. You can hang on one more year. Or two._

No I can't. I've seen the money. There is hardly any left at all.

_Get a job?_

What job? There isn't any. This is my only chance.

_You're making a mistake._

I shake my head wildly to clear away the thoughts. I'm not going to change my mind now. Not for anything. After a quick look round my sitting room I make my way to the Reaping.

The streets are busy, full of people rushing to the square. I let the crowd push me along. A hand grabs me through the crowd and I look up to see my best friend, Verity. She smiles widely at me, her eyes glittering. She always has loved the games. But her smile is infectious and I soon feel one dancing on my face too. We reach the square and quickly get signed in. We step into our age group. I can feel the energy buzzing around this cramped space. I feel hot, the sun beating down on my face, starting to give me a headache.

We stand silent, respectively, while the Mayor reads the Treaty of Treason. The majority of us cheer when the Capitol propaganda video starts playing. I'm not one of them. As I look around I see the faces of people lapping this up, their eyes round with wonder. Fools, I think. Can they not see how naive they are being? When the escort bounds on, I think I might burst out laughing despite of everything. Does he really think he looks attractive when he very much resembles a_ rabbit_?

"Welcome District Two!" He cries, his shrill voice hurting my ears. "I am your new escort, Thumper Bunnykins!"

Dear god.

He goes on to tell us how happy he is to be here today. As he jumps around the stage I can't help wondering, and hoping, that his teeth and ears are fake. I hear people sniggering at his appearance around me. I suddenly feel ashamed at my urge to laugh before. Not because I might _possibly_ hurt his feelings but because here we are, amused, while two children are about to be sent to their almost certain death.

Oh right, one of them is me.

Except without the dying part.

Finally the escort stops making a fool of himself and hops over to where the two identical glass bowls stand. "Ladies first, of course!" He trills. He lowers a hand into the bowl, the only part of his body that isn't altered I noticed._ Focus_, I think. I tuck my hair behind my ear as he delicately opens the slip slowly, fold by fold. _Come on..._

"Amelia Delias!"

I watch as a broad girl, built like a barn, saunters out of the 18-year-old section with a grin on her face. I wait till she reaches the bottom of the stairs to the stage. No one has volunteered yet, which is strange. Though I have seen her in training and she's good. Very good.

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

"I volunteer!" My voice rings out clearly just as Amelia gets to the top of the stage, my eyes glittering in triumph. But no way am I expecting her answer.

"No."

"_What?_" I cry in confusion. I think Selena yells out something similar. Hardly anyone turns down a volunteer!

"Did you not hear me? I said no." Amelia's smug smile grows. "I want to go into the Games."

My mouth hangs open, at a lost for words. _This was my only chance_, I think. I clench my fists in anger, frustrated tears building in my eyes. But someone comes to my rescue. I see a blonde head bobbing up and down as she jogs towards the stage. Amelia is too busy grinning at me to notice Selena sneak up behind her and grab her dark pony tail.

Me, the Mayor, Thumper Bunnykins, the crowd in the square, the whole of District 2 even, are not prepared for the screech Amelia lets off as Selena starts dragging her back off the stage. She puts up a fight, scratching and snarling, but Selena hangs on grimly, a determined expression on her face. When they are both safely on solid ground again, I stride towards the stage, confident in the knowledge that no one will try to volunteer now.

"And what's your name?" The escort asks as soon as I take my place, his whiskers and bunny tail quivering anxiously.

"Beverly Crowne." I reply, my hands clasped behind my back and my eyes facing firmly forward. The escort moves on to the boys, which I am grateful for because I can let out the long breath I didn't even notice I was holding. I'm also thankful that the reality of that I'm going into the Games hasn't sunk in yet.

As soon as the words 'boy tribute' falls from Thumper's lips, pandemonium breaks out. The shouts and yells from the boys side are almost drowned out by the noise of them scuffling with each other. My eyes hone in on one boy, fighting a path through the middle of the crowd. My nose wrinkles at his attire. Did he even bother to get dressed? He has coffee-coloured skin, his eyes matching. I notice they are glazed over, as if he's in another world entirely. He's mumbling to himself. I can't quite make it out but I'm sure it's_ I volunteer_.

Sure enough when he reaches the front he shouts those very words. As he walks up the stairs he drags a large hammer behind him. I think how odd that is, why bring a weapon to the Reaping? I'm surprised a Peacekeeper hasn't taken it off him. He introduces himself as Zephyr Augustine. It sounds vaguely familiar, but I don't recognize his face. We quickly shake hands, my pale hand engulfed by his large brown one. He looks strong but..I am stronger. I have to be. The cogs in my manipulative mind are already whirring.

I sit in a room in the Justice Building, stroking the small sofa I'm sitting on. The material is velvet, almost identical to a dress I have a home. My sisters come bursting in but I hardly pay attention. I listen to their compliments, last words of advice and affection but my mind is in another place. A quick hug and they're gone.

I try to ignore the dull ache in my chest and concentrate on the plan formulating in my head. I will not go down without a fight. I will be coming out of that arena.

Victorious.

* * *

**Okay District 2 Reapings down! Please tell me what you think in a review, I really do appreciate it. :)**


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